


i hope it stays dark forever (i hope the worst isn’t over)

by artthouromeo



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Good Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Other, Protective Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Wilbur Soot Needs a Hug, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, he is growing up and it’s scary, projection fic go brrrr, suicide ideation, wilbur is tired in more ways than one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:00:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29315241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artthouromeo/pseuds/artthouromeo
Summary: when the sun sets at four on it's a lot harder to stay awake. it's a lot harder to open your school issued laptop and do the assigned work, it's a lot harder to keep your eyes open if there is not sun peeking through your curtains. it's a lot harder to do anything when your brain scientifically doesn't allow you to be happy.orwilbur is struggling
Relationships: Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot, Niki | Nihachu & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 99





	i hope it stays dark forever (i hope the worst isn’t over)

**Author's Note:**

> tw/ implied self harm, suicide ideation and slight derealization

when wilbur trugs into the little brick house on the corner of the street it is silent. well besides the music softly playing through his earbuds. silence is too loud sometimes. the door was unlocked and a plate of mashed potatoes and chicken is sitting on the table in front of his chair. he's not hungry and he hasn't been for a long time. but instead of forcing the food down he shovels the food into the trash can by the sink. the kitchen or rather phil's kitchen is cluttered with spices, plants and too many coffee mugs. the dark oak cabinets (much to tommy's dismay) match fairly well with the sage green decor. 

the living room smells of gingerbread despite it being early february. it's empty in there too, muddy shoes and popped soccer balls crowd the door. he walks onto the carpet, facing the mantle. ontop of the fireplace is photos of him and his 'brothers.' one of the frames depicts a proud phil, tommy smiling so hard you can barely see his eyes, techno trying to hide behind tommy and himself, just there. there are others too; one of tommy and tubbo standing next to their snowman from when a snow front came in a couple winters back, one of phil when he first adopted techno holding a pink haired toddler. one of a ten year wilbur and schlatt standing in front of their awfully named "lemonade by schlatt & co." lemonade stand. 

the smiles on their face and the light in young wilbur's eyes make his heart sink. he doesn't recognize the kid in the photos much anymore. him and schlatt used to flirt with niki and minx on the playground and now wilbur watches schlatt smoke weed and dance with quackity. 

the stairs creek with each step. the peeling wallpaper reads fugly grandma cottage but that's what this house is so wilbur can't even get mad. at the top of the stairs is tommy's room. the lights are on, they peek through the crack at the side of the door. he takes his earbuds out to hear tommy talking, no yelling at tubbo and ranboo something about a music disc. he cracks the door open a bit more to see inside of the room. tommy is sitting at his desk playing minecraft, jumping up and down with excitment. wilbur stands at the doorway for a minute or two but he can stay forever, anything to see tommy happy. 

he will never forget watching tommy's downward spiral after tubbo and him got into a friendship ending fight. wilbur stayed up with him for three nights in a row to lay with him so tommy could finally get some sleep. 

the second door is shut completely. there are no lights on but the room is emitting a neon glow from technos' led lights. music is playing it's the neighborhood- no it's arctic monkeys. the volume isn't that loud but the monotone of techno's voice is audible even down the hall. 

"i know i'm just worried about him that's all." techno speaks then pauses for a response. "he's just not been himself lately. he comes home late, doesn't eat, doesn't talk and stays up all night." wilbur finds himself sat on the floor outside his brothers room listening to a conversation about himself.

"schlatt, come on. can't you actually are about something for once in your life?" 

the silence as schlatt responds makes wilbur's bones ache. "if he's fine then why are all of phil's razors missing? why can't i find any tylenol for when i get migraines? if wilbur is fine then why doesn't he act like my brother anymore?"

wilbur doesn't realize he is crying until the tears drip onto his neck and bring him back to reality. the skin underneath his sweater sleeves and his pant legs are burning. he chokes down a sob and crawls, yes crawls to his room. with all the care in the world he reaches up and silently opens the door.

he shuts the door grind him and crawls into his bed which is just a mattress on the ground. tommy broke the bed frame jumping on him to wake up for christmas and he never got around to fixing it. the posters of his favorite bands are staring at him with disgust. 

he could call niki. he could call her and talk until he can’t. listen to her laugh, her soft german accent filling his ears. 

but she wouldn't care. she's probably doing homework or strumming along on her pink guitar. she'll just leave him on read or delivered or something. nothing malicious but wilbur needs someone to talk to and ignoring him right now comes off as a personal attack.

shame coats his mind the same way the tears have began to coat his cheeks. they're all mad at him. he fucked up and they all hate him. his hand wraps around his neck as he sucks in air between silent sobs. he is dying.

wilbur lies in bed and loses a battle with himself that night but not the war.

the door knob is turned and the door creaks open. it's phil. wilbur can smell the colonge his wears from a mile away. wilbur squeezes his eyes shut and pulls the blankets around him in a shitty attempt to pretended to be asleep. the mattress sinks a bit further into the shaggy carpet of his room.

a hand finds its way into wilburs hair and a gently kiss is put onto his temple.

"goodnight wil. i love you."

and with that wilbur feels a little better.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah..this was basically so i could just vent. 
> 
> the title is from no children by the mountain goats!
> 
> twt - @gh0stbursblue


End file.
